Shocking, Rocking
by angellwings
Summary: Jake thinks about a certain red headed Junior Librarian and the way she looks at him. Inspired by the song "If the World Looked Like You" by Will Reynolds.


**A/N:** So, there's this song written and recorded by this guy Will Reynolds called "If the World Looked Like You." Jeremy Jordan sang it a concert about 3 years ago and I became obsessed with it. Then a couple of weeks ago I was listening to it again and it just screamed Jassandra so I ended up writing this little one shot. Hop you enjoy it! You should all go look up the song this was inspired by. It's gorgeous and completely sums up how Jake would feel about Cassie.

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

 **Shocking, Rocking**

 **by angellwings**

* * *

 _If the way you look at me_

 _Was the way we all could see_

 _It would be the shocking_

 _Rocking birth of peace on earth_

 _If the magic that you make_

 _Could be there for all to take_

 _Well who knows what we could do_

 _If the world looked like you_

 _-If the World Looked Like You by Will Reynolds_

* * *

A flash of copper and a glimpse of ivory skin were all he needed to see out of the corner of his eye to know she was there. No matter how many other red heads he met only one had the exact shade of Cassandra's hair or the exact placement of freckles on her forearms. He was almost ashamed to reveal how easily and quickly he'd memorized her. Every curve of her face, every glimpse of emotion on her face, and those large blue eyes. Those eyes that tried so hard to figure him out. Sometimes he didn't even need to see a glimpse of her to know she was in the room. He could feel it. He could feel her eyes on him.

She continually tried to piece him together like one of her equations. She wanted to know what factors in his past had let to the result in front of her. But her eyes never gave him the impression she didn't like the result that he was now. In fact most of the time she indicated quite the opposite. He'd start waxing poetic about art or architecture or the cultures that influenced particular movements and several minutes later he'd find her smiling brightly at him with wide attentive eyes. Like what he was saying was the most interesting thing she'd ever heard. That _look_ , whatever you'd call it, always left him feeling confident and slightly giddy. She would give him that smile and those eyes and he didn't feel like he had to hide anything from her. He'd forget that he had a mask to wear. He'd forget that she was included on that list of people he wore it in front of.

It occurred to him that if everyone in his life had looked at him like _that_ from the very beginning he never would have hid who he really was in the first place. His breathing hitched for a moment and he closed his eyes in attempt to push the thought away. Only, that turned out to be a horrible idea because all he saw when he closed his eyes was _her_. Her smile, her laugh, her constant _joy_ at magic and the world around her. Why couldn't he have had more people in his life like her before now? Why couldn't he seem to let himself enjoy having her in his life _now_? He kept telling himself not to trust her. Not to show her the complete picture. Give her the pieces she needs to work with you, no more and no less.

But with those eyes looking at him it was difficult to keep that line drawn or even remember why he needed to draw the line to begin with.

She was almost intoxicating, if he were honest. From the very moment he stood beside of her in that elevator on the first day, there was a pull. She was the sun and he seemed to constantly orbit around her. He'd yet to figure out how to stop orbiting her and he'd tried. He'd really tried. Before he even knew what was happening he'd be standing barely a centimeter away from her with his shoulder or his arm lightly brushing hers. The thrill the brief contact gave him confused him to no end too. He was not a teenager. Surely he could handle almost touching a pretty girl without his imagination getting the better of him. Or one would think he could. The thrill of it just made him want to be near her more and now it was so much a part of the job to him that he didn't even notice when he was doing it.

Even more shocking than realizing Cassandra looked at him the way he always wished someone would was realizing the line he thought he'd drawn had never really been there in the first place. He shook his head at himself and closed the portfolio he'd been attempting to study. All this time he thought he kept her at a distance but those damn eyes and those damn freckles and those damn curls had worked their way in anyway. Distance was an illusion she let him keep, but he'd never really had it. There had been no line, no mask. Not with her. Never with her.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He needed coffee. He stared grimly at the kitchen doorway and remembered the strength of the coffee Baird had made. It was practically jet fuel. He heard a pencil scribbling behind him and turned to find the red head that currently plagued his thoughts biting her bottom lip and furiously writing with excited eyes. She narrowed her eyes at the page as she worked. It was a clear sign that she was on a roll. He smiled softly at her and took her in for moment. She'd worn blue today, a gray hue of it that matched her eyes exactly. She paired it with brighter shades and floral print tights. The shades she'd chosen managed to make the color of her hair stand out more so than usual. It fell in soft shoulder length waves and he found himself briefly wondering if she'd used that almond shampoo she seemed so fond of lately. She paused in her scribbling and looked up. He immediately turned back to his art portfolio, that was currently closed, and prayed she didn't notice him staring. The scribbling started back a moment later and he breathed a sigh of relief.

A break. He needed coffee and a break from the Annex. He decided he would take a drive to the coffee shop in town for a much needed break. He stood up and grabbed his jacket as he headed for the door.

"Going somewhere?" Cassandra asked as she looked up from her notebook.

He froze but tried not to give himself away. "Uh, yeah. Just need coffee and a bit of fresh air. Thought I'd run into town and back."

Her eyes widened and her smile turned into a bright perfect crescent. It was so enchanting and so mesmerizing that he found himself asking if she wanted to come before the thought had fully formed in his head.

"Oh! I would love to!" She said excitedly in a pitch that he was pretty certain only Cassandra could find. "I've been craving a Voodoo donut all week. Do you think we could go there?"

"Don't see why not," he told her with a friendly smile. "They have coffee too. I just need something that's not extra strength the way Baird makes it."

Cassandra laughed and nodded at him. "That's why I keep a stash of hot tea. I prefer coffee most of the time but with the way Baird makes it tea is just safer when we're here working."

He was almost certain his ears were interpreting her laugh as more musical than it actually was. God, had he ever lost it. They walked out to his car and he automatically held the door open for her. She smiled at him in thanks and her cheeks blushed just slightly. Her ivory skin had a barely noticeable soft pink undertone as he shut the car door behind her. As he got in the car he noted that even today's miraculously clear Portland skies didn't seem quite the right color. He didn't know why. He smiled briefly at Cassandra as he started the car and her eyes accidentally caught his gaze for a lingering moment. She ducked her head and looked away and suddenly he had his reason.

The sky wasn't the shade of blue he wanted it to be anymore. Sky blue or celeste was no longer good enough. He needed Livid, the shade of Blue-Gray that matched Cassandra's eyes. He huffed and turned the car off. This wasn't going to work. This whole thinking things but never expressing them thing. He could do it with his family. He was well practiced with them, but with Cassandra…

He wasn't going to do that. Not any more, at least. It's not as if he'd been doing a terribly good job of keeping her an arm's length away, anyway. Right?

"Stone?" She asked worriedly. "Are you okay?"

He grimaced and then closed his eyes tight as he spoke. "Livid."

Wait, was that all he could say? He could recite poetry for Christ's sake and all he could say at that moment was 'livid'?

"What?" Cassandra asked in concern. "Did I do something or—I mean I know we're not exactly—"

"No, no! Not Livid like that," he said hurriedly. God, he was really screwing this up, wasn't he? "Livid is the technical name for the color of your eyes," he said quietly as he took a deep breath and forced himself to look at her. With the way he'd disregarded her reasons for dealing with the Serpent Brotherhood he wouldn't be surprised if this conversation he wanted to have would be met with shock and horror. "It comes from the latin lavidus, which means leaden blue."

"You know the exact shade of blue that matches my eyes?" She asked with a small smile.

He cleared his throat and nervously scratched the back of his neck. "I pay attention."

"So, I've noticed," she said with a chuckle.

"You—you have?" He asked with a furrowed brow.

She giggled and blushed before she spoke again. "I notice when you read my notebook over my shoulder or when you watch me when you think I can't see you or when you stand so close to me that we can't help but brush against each other. You're not the only one who pays attention." Her tone was soft and warm and it gave him hope he didn't have before. "It's been that way almost since the first moment we met. Until you called me 'little lady' that is. That kind of ruined the moment," she said with a teasing grin.

He grinned and then laughed lightly. "Yeah, never doing that again. I don't even know why I said it then. I've never called _anyone_ little lady before. Ever."

She laughed with him and then grinned at him. "Really?"

"Really! Never even called my nieces that and if I was going to use that particular term with anyone it would be them," he said honestly. "I—I guess I was a bit nervous."

"Well, who could blame you," she said as she angled herself in the car seat to face him. "You'd just faced down Ninjas in Oklahoma and been whisked away by a total stranger. And then you met a thief and—"

"A pretty girl," he said as he interrupted her. He was almost certain she was going to finish that sentence by insulting herself and he wasn't going to let that happen. "With a truly phenomenal smile."

This time her blush was nearly crimson and she looked down at her hands nervously. "You thought I was pretty?" She asked.

"Still do," he admitted. "There's nothing past tense about it."

"Even after I—"

He nodded in the middle of her sentence. She let the sentence fade off and didn't bother to finish it She looked confused and hopeful all at once.

"What does that mean?" She asked him after thoughtful moment of silence.

He had no idea how to answer that. He knew he trusted her now. He knew he cared about her, he knew she was amazing and frustrating. He knew she was the most fascinating and interesting woman he'd ever met. But what he didn't know was what he wanted to do with all of that.

She reached over and placed a hand on his arm when he couldn't seem to answer. He looked up at her to find a blinding smile focused on him with understanding in her big blue eyes. "Did you know that the corner of your eyes crinkle up when you genuinely smile?" She asked him. "And when you talk about something your passionate about your voice raises several pitches and the pace at which you speak increases. Your eyes do this adorable warm and fuzzy thing too. You sort of look like an excited puppy."

He laughed at the comparison and then shook his head. "I do not."

"You do too," she told him with a tinkling giggle. "I like it. I like listening to you talk about all the beautiful things you know. I never had an opportunity to learn anything about art or culture. My parents didn't think it was necessary or thought that it would be a distraction." There was a hint of resentment in her voice that faded quickly as she continued. "But if their not letting me learn about any of it means I get to listen to you talk about it then I'm almost glad for it. Because I love listening to you talk about art and culture and architecture. I really do."

"Me?" He asked incredulously. "Your knowledge is a lot harder to come by than mine. I love how passionately you talk about it and I try to listen but a lot of times I can't really follow you. You are rather cute when you go on about it though, so I can't say I mind. Plus, I…"

"What?" Cassie asked in concern. "Plus you what?"

"I don't know. When I watch you work something out or use that gift of yours," he said as he tapped his temple. "I feel extremely proud of you, I suppose. The ease at which you solve equations and work out puzzles is nothing short of amazing."

Her hands flew to her mouth and she let out a startled gasp as he spoke and he wondered briefly if he'd said something wrong. That question was answered a short moment later when Cassandra threw herself across the middle console and wrapped her arms around him tightly. He thought he heard her sniffling and he rubbed her back comfortingly.

"Cass?" He asked hesitantly. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said as she took a deep breath. "I'm great. I—" she pulled back from the embrace to look him in the eyes and he immediately noticed the unshed tears. "You said you're proud of me."

That's when he remembered that first conversation they'd had about family and the first memory she'd shared with him to anchor her hallucinations. She balanced the checkbook in her head and that was the last time her parents were really proud of her. He gulped back his own emotions and tried not to think about the things this remarkable woman in front of him had been denied. "You're astonishing, darlin'. How could I not be?"

She beamed at him and tears rolled quietly down her cheeks. "Thank you."

He reached a hand out and cupped her chin gently as he shook his head at her. "You don't need to thank me for that, Cassandra. Someone should have told you that long before me."

"I think I could say the same for you," she said as she bashfully looked away from him for a moment. Her eyes slammed into his again and he felt his breathing hitch just for a moment. "You shouldn't have felt like you needed to hide the things you're passionate about. I like listening to you talk about what you know because I'm proud of you too. I just…I didn't know how to just come out and say it or if I should at all. What with our history and all."

"At this point, Cass," Jake said as he kept he moved his hand from her chin to her cheek. "I think that's exactly what it should be. History. I think I've been over it longer than I thought anyway. I've been trying to keep you at arms length but I never really succeeded, did I?"

She smirked at him before she glanced up at the ceiling of his car thoughtfully. Finally, after a long moment of silence she answered with a grin. "No, but it's the trying that counts really."

He chuckled at her and ran his thumb across her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand and he suddenly felt the temptation to kiss her. Before he could second guess the idea he leaned toward her and closed the distance between them. Cassandra let out a small gasp as his lips covered hers and before he knew it she was returning the kiss eagerly. One kiss turned into another and then another. It was much better than he'd ever imagined it to be. Lips moving against each other and their noses occasionally bumping awkwardly. She'd giggle and he'd laugh and then they were back to wet and intrusive kisses with the intimate sounds of lips smacking echoing in the small space of his car. He hadn't intended on this when they'd gotten in his car and, in fact, he'd never imagined it would. But now that it had, he was thoroughly enjoying it.

For him it was an unanticipated but much appreciated turn of events. A lot like Cassandra herself. Never in his life had he thought he'd meet someone like her and from now on he planned to let her know just how grateful he was to have her around. Every day.


End file.
